


slow dance of the infinite stars

by serendipitee



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: (unfortunately lmaoooooo), Blood, Canon Compliant, F/M, Not A Fix-It, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8874502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipitee/pseuds/serendipitee
Summary: Jyn knows they aren't making it out of here alive.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _"Time, the thief, eventually takes all things into his dusty storehouse..."_  
>  -Neil Gaiman, _Stardust_
> 
> None of these characters belong to me, they (and myself) are property of good ol' George Lucas.

There’s a moment, as they stumble together into the darkness of the lift, that Jyn knows they aren’t making it out of here alive.

She knows this feeling, and drapes it around herself like a cloak. Growing up the way she did, then abandoned on the street by Saw, making her way around the nebulas with nothing but wits and a knack for thievery; this is not the first time she has felt the cool sting of certain death. There were days before her imprisonment where she teetered on starvation, but by some divine rights (or her own cunning, she thinks) she has somehow, somehow made it to this day.

This day, this journey. This man leaning on her, warm, fragrant blood soaking slowly into the fibers of his shirt. Jyn hasn’t looked at the wound on his side yet, but judging by the way he can barely stand, arm shaking around her neck, it isn’t good. 

They share a look as the lift drops down. The power for the whole base is down, so the only light shutters in every few feet from the windows, casting shadows over the both of them in rhythm. Cassian has big brown eyes, usually dagger-sharp, analyzing every situation. Right now they look like he’s only just remembered the marrow deep compulsion of every human to hold someone tight and cherish their existence alongside one’s own. She had noticed the signs of him softening to her; the trust and the sacrifice and the very real mutiny he explicitly delivered. He understood her, now, and she understood him--two tiny fractions of a very deeply shattered universe that fit right up against one another. Someone driven away from rebellion in the hopes of a semblance of security or safety and someone driven into the arms of it out of rage, and hopelessness, and necessity.

Jyn had looked up to see if he knew what would happen, but he already knows. Cassian probably knew the second they left her father’s body, still warm, on the surface of that maelstrom of a planet. He knew he would do what he could for the Rebellion and he knew he would die fighting for it--if not here, then in some other battle, scraping every possible inch back from the Empire. And he knew after seeing the spite and fury in every sopping inch of skin that she would help him do it here and now. He knows. 

Instead, right now he’s looking at her with unabashed softness. He cups the hand not clenched in her vest over the curve of her cheek. A sudden, hopeful, painful tenderness unfolds in her chest, seeping into her guts as he swipes his thumb down the slope of her nose and across her lips. He smiles. “Your father called you stardust, yes?” His hand is somehow hot against her skin, despite the smell of iron in the air. “I think I understand.” 

Jyn is caught out of breath. “Do you?” Her mouth moves against his fingers, and in the sparing light his eyes flash and change, heat rising. She curls her bruised fingers in Cassian’s thin shirt, fabric sticky with blood, and steps into him.

They kiss as if the world isn’t ending. His fingers are delicate in her hair, cherishing, holding her like she’s the most important thing in the galaxy. She sends it right back, grasping at his arms, his neck, his face and thinking _you saved me you saved me you saved me_ , trembling with the power of this person (a person who spent his life dedicated to something he believed in) believing in her.

The doors to the lift creak wearily open, exposing weak sunlight and sand. The beach isn’t too far off--Cassian’s breathing is unpleasantly abrupt and shallow, but he should be able to make it. He presses his mouth to the side of her forehead while they configure themselves for the walk, and whispers a “thank you” against her temple.

She looks up at him as a blinding white flash appears on the horizon. “Thank you.” She kisses his scraped knuckles and they make their way toward the sea.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!!! This is the first thing I've written and posted for public consumption in a loooooong time, and this is super short, so let me know if it's any good!


End file.
